His guard was sprawled bonelessly across the narrow steps, looking up at him. To His Grace, Stannis of the House Baratheon, he wrote. She was almost in tears. Why, who can say? y? Why? Why? the raven called.
Jon offered him the skin. Lord Walder is not to be trusted. Oh? Her uncle glanced back, to where Tyrion Lannister was making his slow descent behind them. Is it not wiser, even kinder, that Daenerys Targaryen should die now so that tens of thousands might live? Kinder, Varys said.
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